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.12. 



Copyright )J°. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



FROM DAY TO DAY 
WITH WHITTIER 



From Day to Day 
With Whittier 



SELECTED AND ARRANGED BY 

OLIVE VAN BUREN 



NEW YORK 

BAESE & HOPKINS 

PUBLISHERS 



.V3 



Copyright^ 1910, 

BY 

BARSE & HOPKINS 



©CLA268424 



From Day to Day with Whittier 



JANUARY 

January First 

Rich gift of God ! A year of time ! 

The Last Walk in Autumn, 

O, why and whither ? — God knows all ; 

I only know that He is good, 
And that whatever may befall 

Or here or there, must be the best that could. 
The Shadow and the Light, 

Suffice it, that we know 

What needs must ripen from the seed we sow ; 
That present time is but the mould wherein 
We cast the shapes of holiness and sin. 

The Panorama, 

January Second 

No perfect whole can our nature make ; 
Here or there the circle will break ; 
The orb of Hf e as it takes the light 
On one side leaves the other in night. 

The Preacher, 

[7] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

i<^ x|»c >$». x^x x^ x^ >^ >^ yi^ >^ x^ y^ >^ >»^ i^ >$«i i^ j^ 

January Third 

O Thou who movest on the deep 
Of spirits, wake my own from sleep ! 
Its darkness melt, its coldness warm, 
The lost restore, the ill transform, 
That flower and fruit henceforth may be 
Its grateful ofi'ering, worthy Thee. 

Invocation, 

ETANtjAET Fourth 

I would the gift I offer here 

Might graces from thy favor take^ 
And, seen through Friendship's atmosphere, 
On softened lines and coloring, wear 
The unaccustomed line of beauty for thy sake. 

Dedication. 

January Fifth 

I tread where the Twelve in their way-faring 

trod; 
I stand where they stood with the Chosen of 

God— 
Where His blessing was heard and His lessons 

were taught. 
Where the bhnd were restored and the healing 

was wrought. Palestine, 

[8] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^y^y^'j^y^ >iv >iv y^v v^y v^^ yjv vi<>^ >5f< >i»c>?«c>^ >;< 

January Sixth 

Who, looking backward from his manhood's 

prime, 
Sees not the specter of his misspent time? 

And, through the shade 
Of funeral cypress planted thick behind, 
Hears no reproachful whisper on the wind 
From his loved dead. 

The Reward, 

January Seventh 

The waters of my native stream 
Are glancing in the sun's warm beam: 
From sail-urged keel and flashing oar 
The circles widen to its shore; 
And cultured field and peopled town 
Slope to its willowed margin down. 

The Norsemen^ 

•January Eighth 

Blest land of Judea ! thrice hallowed of song 
Where the holiest of memories pilgrim-Hke 

throng ; 
In the shade of thy pahns, by the shores of thy 

sea, 
On the hills of thy beauty, my heart is with 

thee. Palestine, 

[9] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

Janttary Ninth 

Nothing fails of its end. Out of sight sinks the 

stone. 
In the deep sea of time, but the circles sweep on, 
Till the low-rippled murmurs along the shore 

run. 
And the dark and dead waters leap glad in the 

sun. 

The Quaker Alumm, 

January Tenth 

Thou wilt not chide my turning 
To con, at times, an idle rhyme, 
To pluck a flower from childhood's clime. 
Or listen, at Life's noonday chime, 

For the sweet bells of Morning ! 

To My Sister. 

January Eleventh 

In God's own might 
We gird us for the coming fight ; 
And, strong in Him whose cause is ours 
In conflict with unholy powers. 
We grasp the weapons He has given, — 
The Light, the Truth, and Love of Heaven. 
The Moral Warfare. 

[10] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

>^x xjx xjx x^ y^ 71^ x^v x|x /^ /|y >|x vjv y^v v^v Vjy >;< >?<>l< 

January Twelfth 

To be, indeed, whate'er the soul 

In dreams hath thirsted for so long — 

A portion of Heaven's glorious whole 
Of loveliness and song? 

Hymns, 

Januaey Thirteenth 

SVith us was one, who, calm and true, 
Life's highest purpose understood. 

And like his blessed Master knew 
The joy of doing good. 

Channing, 

3'anuary Fourteenth 

A broken reed, a faded flower, that lingereth 

behind, 
To mourn above its fallen race, and wrestle 

with the wind ! 
Lo! from the Spirit-land I hear the voices of 

the blest ; 
The holy faces of the loved are leaning from 

the West. 
The mighty and the beautiful — the peerless ones 

of old— 
They call me to their pleasant sky and to their 

thrones of gold. 

The Last Norridgewock, 

I n I 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

January Fifteenth 

Above, below, in sky and sod, 

In leaf and spar, in star and man, 
Well might the wise Athenian scan 

The geometric signs of God, 
The measured order of his plan. 

The Over-heart, 

January Sixteenth 

I love thee with a brother's love, 
^ I feel my pulses thrill, 
To mark thy spirit soar above 
The cloud of human ill. 

To W. L. G. 

January Seventeenth 

Whoso shrinks or falters now. 
Whoso to the yoke would bow, 
Brand the craven on his brow! 

Texas. 

January Eighteenth 

For he whom Jesus loved hath truly spoken : 
The holier worship which he deigns to bless 

Restores the lost, and binds the spirit broken. 
And feeds the widow and the fatherless ! 

Worship. 

[lai 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^ y^ y^x y^v y^ v^v vjv >^ >?< y|v vi< >!< >?< v?< y^ /^ >^ x^x 

January Nineteenth 

Lo ! in the midst, with the same look he wore, 
Healing and blessing on Genesaret's shore. 
Folding together, with the all-tender might 
Of his great love, the dark hands and the white, 
Stands the Consoler, soothing every pain. 
Making all burdens light and breaking every 
chain. 

On a Prayer Booh. 

January Twentieth 

Not a vain and cold ideal. 

Not a poet's dream alone, 
(But a presence warm and real. 

Seen and felt and known. 

To--, 



January Twenty-first; 

The Beauty which old Greece or Rome 
Simg, painted, wrought, lies close at home^ 

We need but eye and ear 
In all our daily walks to trace 
The outHne of incarnate grace. 

The hymns of gods to hear! 

Lines To — --, 

[IS], 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^y^ 7?ir>??^??< y^ y^ ypi. vjv x^ y^ xix x^x x^v X4^ x+x x|x>?«: 

January Twenty-sejcond 

Amidst a blinded world he saw 
The oneness of the Dual law ; 
That Heaven's sweet peace on Earth began, 
And God was loved through love of man. 
The Chapel of the Hermits. 

January Twenty-third 

Know'st thou not all germs of evil 
In thy heart await their time? 

Not thyself, but God's restraining, 
Stays their growth of crime. 

What the Voice Said, 

January Twenty-fourth 

Patience, with her cup o'errun, 
With her weary thread outspun, 
Murmurs that her work is done. 

Texas, 

January Twenty-fifth 

Through heat and cold, and shower and sun, 

Still onward cheerly driving ! 
There's life alone in duty done, 

And rest alone in striving. 

The Drovers, 

[14] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 
x^x xjx x^ >^ X4X xjx X4X y|< >^ xjx xjx x^ V^ >|< >?«t>|<>|<>|< 

January Twenty-sixth 

No! the old paths we'll keep until better ones 
are shown, 

Credit good where we find it, abroad or our own ; 

And while "Lo here !" and "Lo there !" the mul- 
titude call. 

Be true to ourselves, and do justice to all. 

The Quaker Alumni. 

January Twenty-seventh 

And all we shrink from now may seem 

No new revealing ; 
Familiar as our childhood's stream 
Or pleasant memory of a dream. 

The loved and cherished past upon the new 
life stealing. 

Hampton Beach, 

January Twenty-eighth 

I love the old melodious lays 
Which softly melt the ages through, 

The songs of Spenser's golden days, 
Arcadian Sydney's silvery phrase, 
Sprinkling our noon of time with freshest morn- 
ing dew. 

Proem, 

[16] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 



January Twenty-ninth 

Then of what is to be, and of what is done, 

Why queriest thou? — 
The past and the time to be are one, 

And both are Now ! 

My Sold and /. 



January Thirtieth 

Take heart ! The promised hour draws near, — 

I hear the downward beat of wings, 
And Freedom's trumpet sounding clear: 
"Joy to the people! — woe and fear 

To the new-world tyrants, old-world kings !" 

Lines, 



January Thirty-first 

Father! to Thy suffering poor 

Strength and grace and faith impart. 

And with Thy own love restore 
Comfort to the broken heart ! 

The Familisfs Hyrrm^ 

[16] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIEF 



FEBRUARY; 



February First 

ffhoughts of my soul, how swift ye go ! 

Swift as the eagle's glance of fire, 
Or arrows from the archer's bow, 

To the far aim of your desire ! 
Thought after thought, ye thronging rise, 

Like spring-doves from the startled wood, 
Bearing like them your sacrifice 

Of music unto God ! 

Hymns. 



February Second 

Oh ! thou who moumest on the way, 
With longings for the close of day ; 
He walks with thee, that Angel kind. 
And gently whispers, "Be resigned: — 
Bear up. Bear on, the end shall tell 
The dear Lord ordereth all things well !" 
The Angel of Patience, 

[17] 



FROM BAY TO BAY WITH WHITTIER 

February Third 

His few brief words were such as move 
The human heart — the Faith-sown seeds 

Which ripen in the soil of love 
To high heroic deeds. 

Channmg, 



February Fourth 

Easier to smite with Peter's sword, 

Than "watch one hour" in humbling prayer 
Life's "great things," like the Syrian lord 

Our hearts can do and dare. 

The Cypress Tree of Ceylon, 



February Fifth 

Thank God ! that I have lived to see the time 
When the great truth begins at last to find 
An utterance from the deep heart of mankind, 

Earnest and clear, that all Revenge is Crime ! 

That man is holier than a creed, — that all 
Restraint upon him must consult his good, 

Hope's sunshine linger on his prison wall. 
And Love look in upon his solitude. 

Lmes^ 



[18] 



3PR0M DAY TO DAY WITH WHlTTIER 

>iv yp!.'/fKy^>^'/^'M^ /|v xjy y|x v^ >|< >?< vi< y^ >|< >|< >|< 

February Sixth 

ofod's ways seem dark, but, soon or late, 

They touch the shining hills of day ; 

The evil cannot brook delay, 
The good can well afford to wait. 

Give ermined knaves their hour of crime ; 
Ye have the future grand and great. 

The safe appeal of Truth to Time ! 

Lines. 

February Seventh 

When, inspired with rapture high, 
It would seem a single sigh 
Could a world of love create — < 
That my life could know no date. 
And my eager thoughts could fill 
Heaven and Earth, o'erflowing still ! 

Hymns, 

February Eighth 

If we have whispered truth. 

Whisper no longer ; 
Speak as the tempest does, 

Sterner and stronger ; 
Still be the tones of truth 

Louder and firmer. 

Song of the Free, 

[19] 



iFROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

February Ninth 

iWhat, my soul, was thy errand here? 

Was it mirth or ease, 
Or heaping up dust from year to year? 

"Nay, none of these !" 
j Ml/ Soul and I, 

February Tenth 
u Nay, though the heart 

(Be consecrated to the holiest work 
iVouchsaf ed to mortal effort, there will be 
Ties of the earth around it, and, through all 
Its perilous devotion, it must keep 
Its own humanity. And it is well. 
Else why wept He, who with our nature veil'd 
The spirit of a God, o'er lost Jerusalem, 
And the cold grave of Lazarus ? And why 
In the dim garden rose His earnest prayer. 
That from His lips the cup of suffering 
Might pass, if it were possible? 

The Missionary/, 

February Eleventh 

Up, my comrades ! up and doing ! 

Manhood's rugged play 
Still renewing, bravely hewing 

Through the world our way. 

The Lumbermen, 

[20] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIEK 

x|K /nt\ xjx x|x xjx xjx x^ >^x x^x >^ ^v y^v /^v yjv >^y y|< >^y >|R 

February Twelfth 

We are weak, but Thou art strong; 

Short our lives, but Thine is long ; 

We are blind, but Thou hast eyes ; 

We are fools, but Thou art wise! 

Thou, our morrow's pathway knowing 

Through the strange world round us growing, 

Hear us, tell us where we are going. 

Song of Slaves in th€ Desert, 

February Thirteenth 

Happy he whose inward ear 
Angel comfortings can hear, 

O'er the rabble's laughter ; 
And, while Hatred's fagots burn. 
Glimpses through the smoke discern 

Of the good hereafter. 

Barclay of Ury. 

February Fourteenth 

Look from the sky, 

Like God's great eye, 
Thou solemn moon, with searching beam; 

Till in the sight 

Of thy pure light 
Our mean self-seekings meaner seem. 

The Eve of Electioiu 

1 31 ] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

>!< >|< >|< ypK y|y y^y y^ vjv 7^7?k >|^ ;?|^>?ir7|K: ^^sry^xy^xxix 

February Fifteenth 

I have FRIENDS in Spirit Land, — 
Not shadows in a shadowy band, 

Not others , but themselves are they. 
And still I think of them the same 
As when the Master's summons came ; 
Their change, — the holy morn-light breaking 
Upon the dream-worn sleeper, waking, — • 

A change from twilight into day. 

To Lucy Hooper. 

February Sixteenth 

But, by all thy nature's weakness, 
Hidden faults and follies known, 

Be thou, in rebuking evil, 
Conscious of thine own. 

What the Voice Said, 

February Seventeenth 

Oh, be Thine arm, as it hath been, 

In every test of heart and faith — 
The Tempter's doubt — the wiles of men — 
The heathen's scoff — the bosom sin — 

A helper and a stay beneath, 
A strength in weakness 'mid the strife 
And anguish of my wasting life^ — 
My solace and my hope in death! 

An Evening in BurmaTi^ 

[22] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 
y^j^y^y^j^y^ >?< >^ y^ y^ y^ v^v y^v y^ y^ y^ y^ v^i. 

February Eighteenth 

Let foplings sneer, let fools deride, — 

Ye heed no idle scorner ; 
Free hands and hearts are still your pride. 

And duty done, your honor. 
Ye dare to trust, for honest fame, 

The jury Time empanels, 
And leave to truth each noble name 

Which glorifies your annals. 

The Shoemakers, 

February Nineteenth 

The truths ye urge are borne abroad 
By every wind and every tide; 

The voice of Nature and of God 
Speaks out upon your side. 

To the Reformers of England, 

February Twentieth 

Time is hastening on, and we 
What our fathers are shall be, — 
Shadow-shapes of memory! 
Joined to that vast multitude 
Where the great are but the good. 
And the mind of strength shall prove 
Weaker than the heart of love. 

The Schoolmaster. 

I ^^ 1 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

Febeuaey Twenty-fiest 
Dh, rank is good, and gold is fair, 

And high and low mate ill ; 

But love has never known a law 

Beyond its own sweet will ! 

Amy Wentworth. 

Febeuaey Twenty-second 
How sweetly on the wood-girt town 
The mellow light of sunset shone ! 

Pentucket, 

Febeuaey Twenty-thied 
*^'Bear up, O Mother Nature!" cry 
Bird, breeze, and streamlet free; 
^*Our winter voices prophesy 
Of summer days to thee !" 

A Dream of Summer, 

Febeuaey Twenty-foueth 
I have not seen, I may not see, 

My hopes for man take form in fact, 
But God will give the victory 

In due time ; in that faith I act. 
And he who sees the future sure, 
The baffling present may endure. 
And bless, meanwhile, the unseen Hand that leads 
The heart's desires beyond the halting step of 
deeds. j.^ j^a** Walk in Autumn. 

[24] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 
yfiryf<K y^ y^y^y^y^y^y^y^ /^\ v^ )4V >?v >l< >;< >5P< yj^ 

February Twenty-fifth 

What hast thou wrought for Right and Truth, 

For God and Man, 
From the golden hours of bright-eyed youth 

To life's mid span? 

Mt/ Soul and I. 

February Twenty-sixth 

Not untrue that tale of old ! 
Now, as then, the wise and bold 
All the powers of Nature hold 

Sub j ect to their kingly will ; 
From the wandering crowds ashore, 
Treading life's wild waters o'er, 
As upon a marble floor. 

Moves the strong man still. 

The Bridal of PennacooJc. 

February Twenty-seventh 

What matters it ! — a few years more, 
Life's surge so restless heretofore 
Shall break upon the unknown shore ! 

In that far land shall disappear 
The shadows which we follow here, — 
The mist-wreaths of our atmosphere! 

Lines, 

[26] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

Vjv y|y Hv y^ yj^y^ y^ y^ y^ ypi. y^ y^K y^ y^ -/;<. y^ y^ y^ 

February Twenty-eighth 

All which is real now remaineth, 

And f adeth never : 
The hand which upholds it now, sustaineth 

The soul forever. 

My Soul and L 

February Twenty-ninth 

Even so, Father ! Let thy will be done, 
Turn and overturn, end what thou hast begun 
In judgment or in mercy ; as for me. 
If but the least and frailest, let me be 
Ever more numbered with the truly free 
Who find thy service perfect liberty ! 

What of the Day. 



[26] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

>iy y(K xjy y^ >jy y^x >^y^y^ /jv/Vx >|y v^ y^y y^y >i«c>|<>|< 



MARCH 

March First 

— Spring, with her change of sun and shower, 
And streams released from winter's chain, 

And bursting bud, and opening flower, 
And greenly-growing grain. 

The New Year. 

March Second 

All-moving spirit ! — freely forth 

At Thy command the strong wind goes : 

Its errand to the passive earth. 

Nor art can stay, nor strength oppose, 
Until it folds its weary wing 

Once within the hand divine; 
So, weary from its wandering, 

My spirit turns to Thine! 



Hymns, 



March Third 



The earth hath felt the breath of spring 
Though yet on her dehverer's wing 
The Hngering frosts of winter cling. 

The Fmieral Tree of the SokoJcis. 

[27] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

Maech Fourth 

God mend his heart who cannot feel 
The impulses of a holy zeal, 
And sees not, with his sordid eyes, 
The beauty of self-sacrifice! 
Though in the sacred place he stands, 
Uplifting consecrated hands. 
Unworthy are his hps to tell 
Of Jesus' martyr-miracle. 
Or name aright that dread embrace 
Of suffering for a fallen race ! 

Derne. 
March Fifth 

The sunlight glitters keen and bright. 

Where, miles away, 
Lies stretching to my dazzled sight 
A luminous belt, a misty light, 

Beyond the dark pine bluffs and wastes of 
sandy gray. 

Hampton Beach, 

March Sixth 

Unto Truth and Freedom giving 

All thy early powers. 
Be thy virtues with the living, 

And thy spirit ours. 

Lines, 

[28] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

^x ^r^x jnfK x+x X4X x^ x^ x|x /jv ^v >|y y(< y^ >?»J >|< y(<>?n y^ 

Maech Seventh 

All lovely things by thee beloved, 
Shall whisper to our hearts of thee: 

These green hills, where thy childhood roved ! 
Yon winding river to the sea. 

Lucy Hooper. 

Maech Eighth 

Dread Ruler of the tempest ! Thou before 

Whose presence boweth the uprisen storm — 
To whom the waves do homage round the shore 

Of many an island empire ! — if the form 
Of the frail dust beneath Thine eye may claim 

Thy infinite regard — oh, breathe upon 
The storm and darkness of man's soul the same 
Quiet, and peace, and humbleness which came 

O'er the roused waters, where Thy voice had 
gone 
A minister of power — to conquer in Thy name ! 
Christ in the Tempest, 

Maech Ninth 

Below, the maple masses sleep 
Where shore with water blends, 

While midway on the tranquil deep 
The evening light descends. 

The Lake-Side, 

[29] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

Maech Tenth 
His will be done, 
Who seeth not as man, whose way- 
Is not as ours ! — 'Tis well with thee ! 
Nor anxious doubt nor dark dismay 
Disquieted thy closing day. 
But, evermore, thy soul could say, 
"My Father careth still for me !" 

Daniel Wheeler, 

March Eleventh 
Ha ! like a kind hand on my brow 

Comes this fresh breeze, 
Cooling its dull and feverish glow, 
While through my being seems to flow 

The breath of new life — the healing of the 
seas ! Hampton Beach, 

March Twelfth 

God is good and God is light, 

In this faith I rest secure ; 

Evil can but serve the right. 

Over all shall love endure. 

Calef in Boston, 

March Thirteenth 
But a soul-sufficing answer 

Hath no outward origin ; 
More than nature's many voices 
May be heard within. To — . 

[30] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

x^ Xjx X|X Xfv x^ >^ >|K >^ >jy yjy /^ ^v VjV J4y >|< 3<f< >|<>y« 

March Fourteenth 

Token of friendship true and tried 
From one whose fiery heart of youth 

With mine has beaten, side by side, 
For Liberty and Truth; 

With honest pride the gift I take, 

And prize it for the giver's sake. 

The Relic. 

March Fifteenth 

And Nature's God, to whom alone 
The secret of the heart is known, — 
The hidden language traced thereon; 

Who from its many cumberings 

Of form and creed, and outward things, 

To light the naked spirit brings ; 

Not with our partial eye shall scan, 
Not with our pride and scorn shall ban, 
The spirit of our brother man ! 

The Funeral Tree of the Sokokis, 

March Sixteenth 

The words which thou hast uttered 

Are of that soul a part. 
And the good seed thou hast scattered 

Is springing from the heart. 

To Charles B. Storn, 

[31] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

>?< >?^ >i< >?<>?<>;<>?<>?<>?<>?< y|< >?<>?<>?< >^ vi^ y^ >*< 

Maech Seventeenth 

In sweet accordancy of praise and love, 

The singing waters run ; 
And sunset mountains wear in light above 

The smile of duty done ; 
Sure stands the promise, — ever to the meek 

A heritage is given ; 
Nor lose they Earth who, single-hearted, seek 

The righteousness of Heaven ! 

The Christian Tourists. 

March Eighteenth 

The snow-plumed Angel of the North 

Has dropped his icy spear ; 
Again the mossy earth looks forth, 

Again the streams gush clear. 

A Dream of Summer, 

Maech Nineteenth 
Follow the reverent steps, the great example 

Of Him whose holy work was "doing good" ; 
So shall the wide earth seem our Father's temple, 
Each loving life a psalm of gratitude. 

Worship, 

March Twentieth 

My spirit bows in gratitude 
Before the Giver of all good. 

The Norsemen, 

[32] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

j^ j^ V^ Vjv /^y^y^ x|x x^^\ x^x x^x xjx x^x xjx y^x x|x >^ ;^ 

Maech Twenty-fiest 

Know well, my soul, God's hand controls 

Whate'er thou f earest ; 
Round Him in calmest music rolls 

Whate'er thou hearest. 

What to thee is shadow, to Him is day, 

And the end He knoweth ; 
And not on a bhnd and aimless way 

The spirit goeth. 

My Sold and L 

Maech Twenty-second 

For thou wast one in whom the light 
Of Heaven's own love was kindled well. 
The Female Martyr. 

Maech Twenty-thied 

The simple faith remains, that He 
Will do, whatever that may be, 
The best alike for man and tree. 

What mosses over one shall grow, 
What light and hf e the other know, 
Unanxious, leaving Him to show. 

Swmmer by the Lakeside^ 

[33] 



FROM BAY TO BAY WITH WHITTIER 

>l< >^ >?< >?<>;<>?< >l< >l< >^ >^ y^y >l^ >jv >|< >^ vi< >?< >$^ 

March Twenty-fourth 
Fresh grasses fringe the meadow-brooks, 
And mildly from its sunny nooks 
The blue eye of the violet looks. 

Funeral Tree of the Sohokis, 

March Twenty-fifth 
Thus he, — to whom, in the painful stress 
Of zeal on fire from its own excess, 
Heaven seemed so vast and earth so small 
That man was nothing, since God was all, — 
Forgot, as the best at times have done, 
That the love of the Lord and of man are one. 

The Preacher. 
March Twenty-sixth 
Was not my spirit born to shine 

Where yonder stars and suns are glowing? 
To breathe with them the light divine 

From God's own holy altar flowing ? 
To be, indeed, whate'er the soul 

In dreams hath thirsted for so long, — 
A portion of Heaven's glorious whole 

Of loveliness and song? Hymns. 

March Twenty-seventh 
Press bravely onward! — not in vain 

Your generous trust in human kind ; 
The good which bloodshed could not gain 
Your peaceful zeal shall find. 

To the Reformers of England, 
[34] 



l^^ROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

x^x xjx X4X >4x xjx^VK >|x /jy /jx xjy xjx >|V Vjv y|V >|< v^o;^ >^ 

March Twenty-eighth 

Thou, O Most Compassionate! 
Who didst stoop to our estate, 
Drinking of the cup we drain, 
Treading in our path of pain, — 

Through the doubt and mystery. 
Grant to us thy steps to see, 
And the grace to draw from thence 
Larger hope and confidence. 

My Dream, 

March Twenty-ninth 

I have no answer for myself or thee. 
Save that I learned beside my mother's knee : 
"All is of God that is, and is to be ; 
And God is good." Let this suffice us still. 
Resting in childlike trust upon his will 
Who moves to his great ends unthwarted by the 
ill. Trust. 

March Thirtieth 

Along the sky, in wavy hues. 
O'er isle and reach and bay. 
Green-belted with eternal pines, 
The mountains stretch away. 

The Lake-Side, 
[35] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

March Thirty-first 

O God most merciful ! Father just and kind ! 
Whom man hath bound let thy right hand un- 
bind. 
Or, if thy purposes of good behind 
Their ills lie hidden, let the sufferers find 
Strong consolation ; leave them not to doubt 
Thy providential care, nor yet without 
The hope which all thy attributes inspire, 
That not in vain the martyr's robe of fire 
Is worn, nor the sad prisoner's fretting chain ; 
Since all who suffer for thy truth send forth, 
Electrical, with every throb of pain, 
Unquenchable sparks, thy own baptismal rain 
Of fire and spirit over all the earth. 

The Prisoners of Naples, 



[36] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 



APRIL 



April First 

For ages on our river borders, 

These tassels in their tawny bloom, 

And willowy studs of downy silver, 
Have prophesied of Spring to come. 

First Flowers, 



April Second 

Let our faith, which in darkness and coldness 

has lain. 
Revive with the warmth and the brightness 

again. 
And in blooming of flower and budding of tree 
The symbols and types of our destiny see ; 
The life of the spring-time, the life of the whole, 
And, as sun to the sleeping earth, love to the 

soul! 

April. 

[37] 



X 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

April Third 

A laugh which in the woodland rang 

Bemocking April's gladdest bird — 
A light and graceful form which sprang 
To meet him when his step was heard — 
E^^es by his lodge-fire flashing dark, 
j Small fingers stringing bead and shell 
Or weaving mats of bright-hued bark, — 

With these the household god had graced his 
Tvigwam well. 

The Bridal of Pennacook, 

April Fourth 

I am groping for the keys 
Of the heavenly harmonies ; 
Still within my heart I bear 
Love for all things good and fair. 

Andrew RyJcmari's Prayer, 

April Fifth 

The clouds, which rise with thunder, slake 

Our thirsty souls with rain; 
The blow most dreaded falls to break 

From off our limbs a chain ; 
And wrongs of man to man but make 

The love of God more plain. 

AlVs Well, 

[38] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

"^ix xjx X4X x^x y^ x|x y^ yi^^ w^ xjv y^v y^ >|>^ xj k x|v v jv y^ >|>c 

April Sixth 

Though oft, Hke letters traced on sand, 
My weak resolves have passed away, 

In mercy lend Thy helping hand 
Unto my prayer to-day ! 

The Wish of To-day. 

April Seventh 

The Night is mother of the Day, 

The Winter of the Spring, 
And ever upon old Decay 

The greenest mosses cling. 
Behind the cloud the starlight lurks. 

Through showers the sunbeams fall ; 
For God, who loveth all his works, 

Has left his Hope with all! 

A Dream of Summer. 

April Eighth 

The flesh may fail, the heart may faint. 
But who are we to make complaint, 
Or dare to plead, in times like these. 
The weakness of our love of ease? 
Thy will be done! 

Thy Will Be Done. 

[39] 



FROM BAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

Apeil Ninth 

So, when thoughts of evildoers 
Waken scorn or hatred move, 

Shall a mournful fellow feeling 
Temper all with love. 

What the Voice Said, 

Apeil Tenth 

[Enough that blessings undeserved 

Have marked my erring track ; — 
That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved^ 

His chastening turned me back ;— 
That more and more a Providence 

Of love is understood, 
Making the springs of time and sense 

Sweet with eternal good ; — 
That death seems but a covered way 

Which opens into light. 
Wherein no blinded child can stray 

Beyond the lather's sight. 

My Psalm. 

Apeil Eleventh 

Oh, Seer-seen Angel ! waiting now 
With weary feet on sea and shore, 

Impatient for the last dread vow 
That time shall be no more ! 

The New Year, 

[40] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

April Twelfth 

Life is brief, duty grave ; but, with rainf olded 

wings, 
Of yesterday's sunshine the grateful heart 

sings ; 
And we, of all others, have reason to pay 
The tribute of thanks, and rejoice on our way. 

The Quaker Alumni, 



April Thirteenth 

My spirit bows in gratitude 
Before the Giver of all good. 
Who fashioned so the human mind. 
That, from the waste of Time behind 
A simple stone, or mound of earth. 
Can summon the departed forth ; 
Quicken the Past to life again, — • 
The Present lose in what hath been. 
And in their primal freshness show 
The buried forms of long ago. 
As if a portion of that Thought 
By which the Eternal will is wrought, 
Whose impulse fills anew with breath 
The frozen solitude of Death, 
To mortal mind were sometimes lent. 

The Norsemen. 

[41] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

April Fourteenth 

Is not Nature's worship thus 

Ceaseless ever, going on? 
Hath it not voice for us 

In the thunder, or the tone 
Of the leaf -harp faint and small? 

Mogg Megone, 

April Fifteenth 

Not for me the crowns of gold, 
Palms, and harpings manifold ; 
Not for erring eye and feet 
Jasper wall and golden street. 
What thou wilt, O Father, give ! 
All is gain that I receive. 

Andrew Rykmari's Prayer, 

April Sixteenth 

Noiseless as dew-fall, heed it well — 
Thy Father's call of love ! 

The Call of the Christian. 

April Seventeenth 

Not the less shall stern-eyed Duty 
To thy lips her trumpet set. 

But with harsher blasts shall mingle 
Wailings of regret. 

What the Voice Said. 

[42] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

v^j^y^y^T^ >|v >|v >|vv|*k v|y y|v y^x x^x >^ >|«c >$< >j< >ji? 

ApRiii Eighteenth 

When the breaking day is flushing 
All the East, and light is gushing 
Upward through the horizon's haze, 
Sheaf -like, with its thousand rays 
Spreading, until all above 
Overflows with joy and love. 
And below, on earth's green bosom, 
All is changed to light and blossom. 

Hymns, 

April Nineteenth 

Well may the temple-shrine grow dim, 
And shadows veil the Cherubim, 
When He, the chosen one of Heaven, 
A sacrifice for guilt is given ! 

The Crucifixion, 

April Twentieth 

Once more, through God's great love, with you 

I share 
A morn of resurrection sweet and fair 

As that which saw, of old, in Palestine, 
Immortal Love uprising in fresh bloom 
From the dark night and winter of the tomb ! 

Picturres, 

[43] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^yfK'M^y^y^y^y^ yp< y^ vjv vjv y^v y^y^j^y^y^y^ 

April Twenty-first 

But as for me, O God ! for me, 
The lowly creature of Thy will, 

Lingering and sad, I sigh to Thee, 
An earth-bound pilgrim still ! 

Hymns, 

April Twenty-second 

Alas ! — the evil which we fain would shun 

We do, and leave the wished-for good undone: 

Our strength to-day 
Is but to-morrow's weakness, prone to fall ; 
Poor, blind, unprofitable servants all 

Are we alway. 

The Reward, 

April Twenty-third 

The cross, if rightly borne, shall be 
No burden, but support to thee. 

The Cross. 

April Twenty-fourth 

The calm brow through the parted hair, 
The gentle lips which knew no guile, 

Softening the blue eye's thoughtful care 
With the bland beauty of thy smile. 

To Pollen. 

[44] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

April Twenty-fifth 

To the God of all sure mercies let my blessing 
rise to-day. 

Cassandra Chadmick. 

April Twenty-sixth 

In the darkness as in daylight, 

On the water as on land, 
God's eye is looking on us, 

And beneath us is his hand. 

The Fishermen, 

April Twenty-seventh 

Early hath Life's mighty question 
Thrilled within thy heart of youth 

With a deep and strong beseeching : 
WHAT and WHERE IS TRUTH.? 

To—. 

April Twenty-eighth 

Blue sea of the hills ! in my spirit I hear 
Thy waters Genesaret, chime in my ear ; 
Where the Lowly and Just with the people sat 

down. 
And thy spray on the dust of his sandals was 
' thrown. 

Palestine. 

[45] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 
IjrjJ? >|*k xjx y(< '/^ x^ y^ xjx xv< >^**> >i^ x^x x^ >*^ >|«c ji^ >^ 

April Twenty-ninth 

O Thou, who in the garden's shade 
Didst wake Thy weary ones again, 

Who slumbered at that fearful hour, 
Forgetful of Thy pain; 

Bend o'er us now, as over them. 

And set our sleep-bound spirits free. 

Nor leave us slumbering in the watch 
Our souls should keep with Thee ! 

The Cypress-Tree of Ceylon, 



April Thirtieth 

How feels the stone the pang of birth, 
Which brings its sparkling prism forth? 
The forest tree the throb which gives 
The life-blood to its new-born leaves?; 
Do bird and blossom feel, like me, 

Life's many-folded mystery, • 

The wonder which it is to be? 

Questions of Life, 



[46] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 



MAY 



May First 

While through these elm boughs wet with rain 

The sunset's golden walls are seen, 
With clover bloom and yellow grain 

And wood-draped hill and stream between ; 
I long to know if scenes Hke this 

Are hidden from an angel's eyes ; 
If earth's familiar loveliness 

Haunts not thy heaven's serener skies. 

To FoUen. 



May Second 

Well to suffer is divine ; 

Pass the watchword down the line, 

Pass the countersign : "Endure.'* 
Not to him who rashly dares, 
But to him who nobly bears, 

Is the victor's garland sure. 

Burial of Barbour. 

[47] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

May Third 

What sings the book? What oracle 
Is in the pine-tree's organ swell? 
What may the wind's low burden be? 
The meaning of the moaning sea? 
The hieroglyphics of the stars? • 
Or clouded sunset's crimson bars ? 

Questions of Life, 

May Fourth 

'Twas an evening of beauty. The air was per- 
fume, 

The earth was all greenness, the trees were all 
bloom ; 

'And softly the delicate viol was heard. 

Like the murmur of love or the notes of a bird. 

Cities of the Plain, 

May Fifth 

Who bears no trace of passion's evil force? 
Who shuns thy sting, O terrible remorse? — 

Who does not cast 
On the thronged pages of his memory's book, 
At times, a sad and half reluctant look, 

Regretful of the past? 

The Reward. 

[48] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^y^y^K >|«c>|r v|y vjv v|v v^v v^v yjv y|v >!< y^j^y^y^-^ 

May Sixth 

And well do time and place befit my mood: 

Beneath the arms 
Of this embracing wood, a good man made 
His home, like Abraham resting in the shade 

Of Mamre's lonely palms. 

Chalkley Hall, 

May Seventh 

All is illusion, — loss but seems ; 
Pleasure and pain are only dreams ; 
Who deems he slayeth doth not kill ; 
Who counts as slain is living still. 
Strike, nor fear thy blow is crime; 
Nothing dies but the cheats of time. 

The Preacher, 

May Eighth 

Yet where our duty's task is wrought 
In unison with God's great thought, 
The near and future blend in one. 
And whatsoe'er is willed, is done! 
And ours the grateful service whence 
Comes, day by day, the recompense : 
The hope, the trust, the purpose stayed. 
The fountain and the noonday shade. 

Seedtime and Harvest, 

[49] 



[FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

May Ninth 

When the Breath Divine is flowing, 
Zephyr-like o'er all things going, 
And as the touch of viewless fingers. 
Softly on my soul it lingers. 

Hymns, 

May Tenth 

Christ's love rebukes no home-love, breaks no tie 

of kin apart ; 
Better heresy in doctrine, than heresy of heart. 

Mary Garvin. 

May' Eleventh 

Wild and sweet the flowers are blowing 

By that streamlet's side, 
And the greener verdure showing 

Where its waters glide — 
Down the hill-slope murmuring on 
Over root and mossy stone. 

The Fountain. 

May Twelfth 

But like some tired child at even, 
On thy mother Nature's breast, 

Thou, methinks, are vainly seeking 
Truth, and peace, and rest. 



To—, 



[50] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^ v$*c )4v vjv y|y y^ y^ v^ V|v v^v >|V V|V ^v /jy /|v VjV ^4v x^k' 

May Thirteenth 

All souls that struggle and aspire, 
All hearts of prayer by Thee are lit ; 

And, dim or clear, Thy tongues of fire 
On dusky tribes and twilight centuries sit. 

Nor bounds nor clime nor creed Thou know'st. 
Wide as our need Thy favors fall ; 

The white wings of the Holy Ghost 

Stoop, seen or unseen, o'er the heads of all. 
The Shadow and the Light, 

May Fourteenth 

— Through the deep and dark abyss — 
Flowers of midnight's wilderness, 
Blowing with the evening's breath 
Sweetly in their Maker's path. 

Hymns, 

May Fifteenth 

We need, methinks, the prophet-hero still, 
Saints true of life and martyrs strong of will. 
To tread the land, even now, as Xavier trod 
The streets of Goa, barefoot, with his bell, 
Proclaiming freedom in the name of God. 

The Men of Old. 

[51] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

May Sixteenth 

There drooped thy more than mortal face, 

O Mother, beautiful and mild ! 
Enfolding in one dear embrace 

Thy Saviour and thy child. 

Raphael, 

May Seventeenth 

The fox his hillside cell forsakes, 
The muskrat leaves his nook, 

The bluebird in the meadow brakes 
Is singing with the brook. 

A Dream of Summer. 

May Eighteenth 

Poor, and weak, and robbed of all. 

Weary with our daily task, 
That Thy truth may never fall 

Through our weakness, Lord, we ask. 

The Familisfs Hymn, 

May Nineteenth 

Stand still, my soul, in the silent dark 

I would question thee, 
Alone in the shadow drear and stark 

With God and me ! 

My Soul and /• 

[62] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

May Twentieth 

Through all disguise, form, place, or name, 
Beneath the flaunting robes of sin, 

Through poverty and squalid shame, 
Thou lookest on the man within. 

On man, as man, retaining yet, 

Howe'er debased, and soiled, and dim. 

The crown upon his forehead set, — 
The immortal gift of God to him. 

Democracy, 

May Twenty-first 



That song of Love, now low and far, 
Ere long shall swell from star to star ! 

The Chapel of the Hermits. 

May Twenty-second 

Oh, welcome calm of heart and mind ! 
As falls yon fir-tree's loosened rind 
To leave a tenderer growth behind, 

So fall the weary years away ; 
A child again, my head I lay 
Upon the lap of this sweet day. 

Summer hy the Lakeside, 

[53] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

May Twenty-third 

Friend of my soul ! — as with moist eye 
I look up from this page of thine, 

Is it a dream that thou art nigh, 
Thy mild face gazing into mine? 

To FolUn, 

May Twenty-fourth 

Wisely and well said the Eastern bard: 
Fear is easy, but love is hard. 

The Preacher. 

May Twenty-fifth 

Deeper than the gilded surface 
Hath thy wakeful vision seen, 

Farther than thy narrow present 
Have thy journeyings been. 

To—. 

May Twenty-sixth 

Now, the soul alone is willing : 

Faint the heart and weak the knee ; 
And as yet no lip is thrilling 

With the mighty words, "Be Free !" 
Tarrieth long the land's Good Angel, but his 
advent is to be! 

Lmes, 

[54] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

May Twenty-seventh 

Take heart from John de Matha !— 
God's errands never fail ! 

The Mantle of St. John de Matha, 

May Twenty-eighth 
Bearer of freedom's holy light. 

Breaker of slavery's chain and rod, 
The foe of all which pains the light, 
Or wounds the generous ear of God ! 

Democracy. 

May Twenty-ninth 

Know we not our dead are looking 

Downward with a sad surprise. 
All our strife of words rebuking 

With their mild and loving eyes? 

Shall we grieve the holy angels? Shall we 
cloud their blessed skies? 

Let us draw their mantles o'er us 

Which have fallen in our way ; 
Let us do the work before us. 

Cheerily, bravely, while we may, 

Ere the long night-silence cometh, and with 
us it is not day ! 



Lmeg, 



[55] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

May Thirtieth 

Give our tears to the dead! For humanity's 

claim 
From its silence and darkness is ever the same ; 
The hope of that World whose existence is bliss 
May not stifle the tears of the mourners of this. 
For, oh ! if one glance the freed spirit can throw 
On the scene of its troubled probation below. 
Than the pride of the marble — the pomp of the 

dead — 
To that glance will be dearer the tears which we 

shed. 

A Lament. 



May Thirty-first 

We keep thy pleasant memory freshly green, 

Of love's inheritance a priceless part, 
Which Fancy's self, in reverent awe, is seen 
To paint, forgetful of the tricks of art. 
With pencil dipped alone in colors of the 
heart. 

In Peace, 



[5«] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 



JUNE 



June First 

for boyhood's time of June, 
Crowding years in one brief moon, 
When all things I heard or saw. 
Me, their master, waited for, 

1 was rich in flowers and trees, 
Humming-birds and honey-bees. 

The Barefoot Boy, 



June Second 

The garden rose may richly bloom 

In cultured soil and genial air 
To cloud the light of Fashion's room, 

Or droop in Beauty's midnight hair; 
In lonelier grace, to sun and dew 

The sweetbrier on the hillside shows 
Its single leaf and fainter hue, 

Untrained and wildly free, yet still a sister 
rose! 

The Bridal of PermacooTc, 

[67] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^y^<y^yt< vjv viv >4x x^v M^yy^r^y^y^y^ x^"^ y^ xjx /^ 

June Third 

The dark-eyed daughters of the Sun, 

At morn and evening hours, 
O'erhung their graceful shrines alone 

With wreaths of dewy flowers. 

The Album. 

June Fourth 

That presence seems before me now, 
A placid heaven of sweet moonrise. 

When, dew-hke, on the earth below 
Descends the quiet of the skies. 

To Follen, 

June Fifth 

And odors from the springing grass, 
The sweet birch and the sassafras, 
Upon the scarce felt breezes pass. 

Funeral Tree of the SoJcokis. 

June Sixth 

Dear Lord ! between that law and thee 

No choice remains ; 
Yet not untrue to man's decree. 
Though spurning its rewards, is he 

Who bears its pains. 

Stanzas for the Times, 

[58] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

June Seventh 

Then the dreary shadows scattered, like a cloud 
in morning's breeze, 

And a low deep voice within me seemed whisper- 
ing words like these: 

"Though thy earth be as the iron, and thy 
heaven a brazen wall. 

Trust still His loving kindness whose power is 
over all." 

Cassandra Southwick, 

June Eighth 

What heed I of the dusty land 

And noisy town? 
I see the mighty deep expand 
From its white line of glimmering sand 

To where the blue heaven on bluer water shuts 
down. 

Hampton Beach, 

June Ninth 

'Twas night. The tranquil moonlight smile 
With which Heaven dreams of Earth, shed 
down 
Its beauty on the Indian isle — 

On broad, green field and white-waUed town. 
Toussaint VOuverture, 

[59] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

June Tenth 

We shape ourselves the joy or fear 
Of which the coming life is made, 

And fill our Future's atmosphere 
With sunshine or with shade. 

Raphael, 

June Eleventh 

So then, beach, bluff and wave, farewell ! 

I bear with me 
No token stone nor glittering shell, 
But long and oft shall Memory tell 

Of this brief thoughtful hour of musing by 
the Sea. 

Hampton Beach, 

June Twelfth 

I hear again thy low replies, 

I feel thy arm within my own, 
And timidly again uprise 
The fringed lids of hazel eyes. 

With soft brown tresses overblown. 
Ah! Memories of sweet summer eves, 

Of moonlit wave and willowy way. 
Of stars and flowers, and dewy leaves. 

And smiles and tones more dear than they ! 

Memories. 

[60] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

June Thirteenth 

Better than Glory's pomp will be 
That green and blessed spot to me, — 
A palm-shade in Eternity ! — 

Lines, 

June Fourteenth 

Alas for him who never sees 
The stars shine through his cypress-trees! 
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, 
Nor looks to see the breaking day 
Across the mournful marbles play ! 
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith. 

The truth to flesh and sense unknown, — 
That Life is ever lord of Death, 

And Love can never lose its own ! 

Snow-hound, 

June Fifteenth 

As yonder tower outstretches to the earth 
The dark triangle of its shade alone 
When the clear day is shining on its top. 
So, darkness in the pathway of Man's life 
Is but the shadow of God's providence, 
By the great Sun of Wisdom cast thereon ; 
And what is dark below is light in Heaven. 

Tatden 

[61] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

June Sixteenth 

Earnest words must needs be spoken 
When the warm heart bleeds or burns 

With its scorn of wrong, or pity 
For the wronged, by turns. 

What the Voice Said, 

June Seventeenth 

Love shall tread out the baleful fire of anger, 
And in its ashes plant the tree of peace ! 

Worship. 

June Eighteenth 

The Present, the Present is all thou hast 

For thy sure possessing ; 
Like the patriarch's angel, hold it fast 

Till it gives its blessing. 

Mt/ Soul and I. 

June Nineteenth 

The slopes lay green where summer rains, 
The western wind blew fresh and free, 

And glimmering down the orchard lanes 
The white surf of the sea. 

Charming, 

[63] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^ >$< y^ y^ y^ y^ viv >|x a\ yix Mi\ y^x x^x x^x x^x x^x /|^ >k 

June Twentieth 

An all-pervading beauty seems to say : 
God's love and power are one ; and they, 
Who, like the thunder of a sultry day. 

Smite to restore — 
And they, who, like the gentle wind, uplift 
The petals of the dew-wet flowers, and drift 

Their perfume on the air. 
Alike may serve Him, each with their own gift, 

Making their lives a prayer ! 

To A. K. 



June Twenty-first 

Never be thy shadow less. 
Never fail thy cheerfulness; 
Care, that kills the cat, may plough 
Wrinkles in the miser's brow. 
Deepen envy's spiteful frown. 
Draw the mouths of bigots down, 
Plague ambition's dream, and sit 
Heavy on the hypocrite. 
Haunt the rich man's door, and ride 
In the gilded coach of pride, — 
Let the fiend pass ! — ^What can he 
Find to do with such as thee? 

To My Old Schoolmaster, 

[631 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

June Twenty-second 

Thine to work as well as pray, 
Clearing thorny wrongs away ; 
Plucking up the weeds of sin, 
Letting Heaven's warm sunshine in. 

Li/nes. 

June Twenty-third 

Yet trouble springs not from the ground, 

Nor pain from chance; 
The Eternal order circles round, 
And wave and storm find mete and bound 

In Providence. 

Anniversary Poem, 

June Twenty-foueth 

These children of the meadows, born 
Of sunshine and of showers ! 

Flowers in Wi/nter, 

June Twenty-fifth 

For he who blesses most is blest ; 

And God and man shall own his worth 
Who toils to leave as his bequest 

An added beauty to the earth. 

Lines, 

[64] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^w^y^y^ '^y^ >?v v^v >|v yjv vjv v^ y^v y^y^y^y^y^ 

June Twenty-sixth 

Around Sebago's lonely lake 
There lingers not a breeze to break 
The mirror which its waters make. 

The solemn pines along its shore, 
The firs which hang its gray rocks o'er, 
Are painted on its glassy floor. 

The Funeral Tree of the Sohokis. 

June Twenty-seventh 

God's hand within the shadow lays 
The stones whereon his gates of praise 
Shall rise at last. 

Anniversary Poem, 

June Twenty-eighth 

Yet shrink not thou, whoe'er thou art, 
For God's great purpose set apart. 
Before whose far-discerning eyes. 
The Future as the Present lies ! 
Beyond a narrow-bounded age 
Stretches thy prophet-heritage, 
Through Heaven's dim spaces angel-trod, 
Through arches round the throne of God ! 
Thy audience, worlds — all Time to be 
The witness of the Truth in thee ! 

Ezekiel, 

[65] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

June Twenty-ninth 

With that deep insight which detects 

All great things in the small, 
And knows how each man's life aflpects 

The spiritual life of all, 
He walked by faith, and not by sight — • 

By love and not by law; 
The presence of the wrong or right 

He rather felt than saw. 

The Quaker of the Olden Time, 



June Thirtieth 

What if my feet may not tread where He stood, 
Nor my ears hear the dashing of Galilee's flood, 
Nor my eyes see the cross which He bowed Him 

to bear. 
Nor my knee press Gethsemane's garden of 

prayer. 

Yet, Loved of the Father, thy Spirit is near 
To the meek, and the lowly, and the penitent 
here. 

Palestine, 



[66] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^ y^ y^ >|y v|y y^y^y^y^ y|v yjv y|v v^ >^ y^ v^ 7?«r?K 



JULY 



Jui.Y First 

Still let the land be shaken 
By a summons of thine own ! 

By all save truth forsaken, 
Why, stand with that alone ! 

To Massachusetts. 



Jui.Y Second 

Lift again the stately emblem on the Bay State's 
rusted shield, 

Give to the Northern winds the Pine-Tree on our 
banner's tattered field. 

Sons of men who sat in council with their Bibles 
round the board, 

Answering England's royal missive with a firm, 
"Thus saith the Lord !" 

Rise again for home and freedom ! — set the bat- 
tle in array ! 

What the fathers did of old time we, their sons, 
must do to-day. 

The Pine-Tree. 

[67] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

July Third 

Glory to God for ever ! 

Beyond the despot's will 
The soul of Freedom liveth, 

Imperishable still. 

To Charles B. Storrs. 

July Fourth 

O Freedom ! if to me belong 
Nor mighty Milton's gift divine, 

Nor Marvell's wit and graceful song, 
Still with a love as deep and strong 
As theirs, I lay, like them, my best gifts on thy 
shrine ! 

Proem. 

July Fifth 

Better to stem with heart and hand 
The roaring tide of life, than lie, 
Unmindful, on its flowery strand, 

Of God's occasions drifting by ! 
Better with naked nerve to bear 
The needles of this goading air, 
Than, in the lap of sensual ease, forego 
The godlike power to do, the godlike aim to 
know. 

Last Walk in 'Autumn. 

[68] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

July Sixth 

Sweet airs of love and home, the hum 

Of household melodies, 
Come singing, as the robins come 

To sing in door-yard trees. 

Li/nes, 

'July Seventh 

Why fear the night? Why shrink from Death, 

That phantom wan? 
There is nothing in Heaven, or earth beneath, 

Save God and man. 

My Soul and I, 

July Eighth 

The simple tastes, the kindly traits, 
The tranquil air and gentle speech, 

The silence of the soul that waits 
For more than man to teach. 

My Namesake. 

July Ninth 

The hills are dearest which our childish feet 
Have climbed the earliest ; and the streams most 

sweet 
Are ever those at which our young lips drank. 
The Bridal of Pennacook. 

[69] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

July Tenth 

The blessing of her quiet life 

Fell on us like the dew ; 
And good thoughts, where her footsteps pressed, 

Like fairy blossoms grew. 

Gone, 

July Eleventh 

Our weakness is the strength of sin, 
But love must needs be stronger far, 

Outreaching all, and gathering in 

The erring spirit and the wandering star. 
The Shadow and the Light, 

July Twelfth 

In the war which Truth or Freedom wages 

With impious fraud and the wrong of ages 

Hate and malice and self-love mar 

The notes of triumph with painful jar, 

And the helping angels turn aside 

Their sorrowing faces the shame to hide. 

Never on custom's oiled grooves 

The world to a higher level moves, 

But grates and grinds with friction hard 

On granite boulder and flinty shard. 

The Preacher, 

[70] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

x^}^/fKMi^ / jv 4x M^\ yjy xjy Vjy y|v v^ y^ w^y^y^y^ y^ 

July Thirteenth 

"To thy duty, now and ever ! 

Dream no more of rest or stay; 
Give to Freedom's great endeavor 

All thou art and hast to-day." 
Thus, above the city's murmur, said a Voice, or 
seems to say. 

Lines, 

July Fourteenth 

With Him, before whose awful power 
, Thy spirit bent its trembling knee, 
Who, in the silent, greeting flower. 

And forest leaf, looked out on thee. 
We leave thee, with a trust serene, 

Which Time, nor Change, nor Death can 
move. 
While with thy childlike faith we lean 

On Him whose dearest name is Love. 

To Follen, 

July Fifteenth 

For still the new transcends the old 
In signs and tokens manifold — 
Slaves rise up men ; the olive waves. 
With roots deep set in battle graves ! 

The Chapel of the Hermits, 

[71] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

July Sixteenth 

Shine, light of God ! Make broad thy scope 

To all who sin and suffer ; more 
And better than we dare to hope 

With Heaven's compassion make our longings 
poor ! 

The Shadow and the Light. 

July Seventeenth 

Sweet promptings unto kindest deeds 

Were in her very look; 
We read her face, as one who reads 

A true and holy book. 

Gone, 

July Eighteenth 

Life's burdens fall, its discords cease ; 

I lapse into glad release 

Of nature's own exceeding peace. 

Summer hy the Lakeside, 

July Nineteenth 

One hymn more, O my lyre ! 
Praise to the God above, 
Of joy and life and love, 

Sweeping its strings of fire ! 

Hymns, 

[7g] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^y^y^y^'j^'/\<ii^>p<'A'K y^v y^v y^^ yi^\ x^ y^'x^y^Ky^ 

July Twentieth 

Dear God and Father of us all, 
Forgive our faith in cruel lies, — 
Forgive the blindness that denies ! 

Forgive thy creature when he takes 
For the all-perfect love thou art, 
Some grim creation of his heart. 

The Witch's Daughter, 

July Twenty-first 

O hearts of love ! O souls that turn 

Like sunflowers to the pure and blest! 
To you the truth is manifest : 

For they the mind of Christ discern 
Who lean hke John upon his breast ! 

The Over-Heart. 

July Twenty-second 

Oh, be Thine arm, as it hath been 

In every test of heart and faith — 
The Tempter's doubt — the wiles of men — 
The heathen's scoff — the bosom's sin — 

A helper and a stay beneath, 
A strength in weakness 'mid the strife 
And anguish of my wasting life — 
My solace and my hope in death ! 

The Missionary, 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^yf^ j^ y^ y^ y^ y^ 'M\^ y^ y^ y^ y^ y^ y^ y^y^ y^ >^ 

July Twenty-third 

Fling abroad thy scrolls of Freedom ! 

Speed them onward far and fast ! 
Over hill and valley speed them, 

like the sibyl's on the blast! 

To Faneuil Hall. 

July Twenty-foueth 

And now my spirit sighs for home, 
And longs for light whereby to see, 

And, like a weary child, would come, 
O Father, unto thee ! 

The Wish of To-day. 

July Twenty-fifth 

Breath of the blessed Heaven for which we pray, 
Blow from the eternal hills ! — make glad our 
earthly way! 

Pictures. 

July Twenty-sixth 

Not to the swift nor to the strong 
The battles of the right belong ; 
For he who strikes for Freedom wears 
The armor of the captive's prayers. 

Derne. 

[74] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

July Twenty-seventh 

I am — ^how little more I know ! 
Whence came I? Whither do I go? 
A centered self which feels and is ; 
A cry between the silences ; 
A shadow-birth of clouds at strife 
With sunshine on the hills of life ; 
A shaft from Nature's quiver cast 
Into the Future from the Past; 
Between the cradle and the shroud, 
A meteor's light from cloud to cloud. 

Questions of Life. 

July Twenty-eighth 

Well, whatever lot be mine, 
Long and happy days be thine, 
Ere thy full and honored age 
Dates of time its latest page ! 

The Schoolmaster. 

July Twenty-ninth 

O Stream of the Mountains ! if answer of thine 
Could rise from thy waters to question of mine, 
Methinks through the din of thy thronged 

banks a moan 
Of sorrow would swell for the days which have 

gone. 

The Bridal of PemimcooTc 

[75] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

July Thirtieth 

Art builds on sand ; the works of pride 
And human passion change and fall ; 

But that which shares the life of God 
With him surviveth all. 

To Wordsworth. 



July Thirty-first 

O thriftlessness of dream and guess ! 

O wisdom which is foolishness ! 

Why idly seek from outward things 

The answer inward silence brings; 

Why stretch beyond our proper sphere 

And age for that which lies so near? 

Why climb the f ar-oif hills with pain, 

A nearer view of heaven to gain? 

In lowliest depths of bosky dells 

The hermit Contemplation dwells. 

A fountain's pine-hung slope his seat, 

And lotus-twined his silent feet, 

When, piercing heaven with screened sight. 

He sees at noon the stars, whose light 

Shall glorify the coming night. 

Questions of Life, 



[76] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 



AUGUST 



August First 

I draw a freer breath — I seem 

Like all I see — 
Waves in the sun — the white-winged gleam 
Of sea-birds in the slanting beam — 

And far-off sails which flit before the South 
wind free. 

Hampton Beach, 

August Second 

All as God wills, who wisely heeds 

To give or to withhold, 
And knoweth more of all my needs 
' Than all my prayers have told ! 

My Psalm. 

August Third 

The path of life we walk to-day 

Is strange as that the Hebrews trod ; 

We need the shadowing rock, as they — 
We need, like them, the guides of God. 
The Rock in El Ghor. 

[77] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

yfi.y^ y^y^'j^y^y^ >l< y^ >|<>i«:v|v >|v yi^ y^ y^y^y^s: 

August Fourth 

Happy he whose inward ear 
Angel comfortings can hear, 

O'er the rabble's laughter; 
And, while Hatred's fagots burn, 
Glimpses through the smoke discern 

Of the g'ood hereafter. 

Barclay of Ury. 

August Fifth 

Faith shares the future's promise; Love's 
Self-offering is a triumph won ; 

And each good thought or action moves 
The dark world nearer to the sun. 

The Voices. 



August Sixth 

In the dark we cry like children, and no answer 

from on high 
Breaks the crystal spheres of silence, and no 

white wings downward fly ; 
But the heavenly help we pray for comes to 

faith, and not to sight. 
And our prayers themselves drive backward all 

the spirits of the night! 

The Garrison of Cape Ann, 

[78] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

August Seventh 

Prayer-strengthen'd for the trial, come to- 
gether. 
Put on the harness for the moral fight, 
And, with the blessing of your heavenly Father, 
Maintain the Right ! 

Lines on the PincJcney Resolution. 



August Eighth 

We journeyed on ; but earth and sky 

Had power to charm no more ; 
Still dreamed my inward-turning eye 

The dream of memory o'er. 
Ah ! human kindness, human love, — 

To few who seek denied, — 
Too late we learn to prize above 

The whole round world beside ! 

The Hill-top. 



August Ninth 

God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly 

What He hath given ; 
They live on earth, in thought and deed, as truly 

As in Heaven. 

To My Friendi on the Death of His Sister. 

[79] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

August Tenth 

With silence only as their benediction, 

God's angels come 
Where, in the shadow of a great affliction, 

The soul sits dumb! 
To My Friend, on the Death of His Sister. 

August Eleventh 

"The footprints of the life divine, 
Which marked their path, remain in thine: 
And that great Life, transfused in theirs, 
Awaits thy faith, thy love, thy prayers !" 
The Chapel of the Hermits, 

August Twelfth 

The tissue of the Life to be 

We weave with colors all our own. 

And in the field of Destiny 
We reap as we have sown. 

Raphael, 

August Thirteenth 

God is Love, saith the Evangel ; and our world 

of woe and sin 
Is made light and happy only when a Love is 

shining in. 

The Slaves of Martinique. 

[80] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^K^KW^ 'j^y^y^ -^k-t^F'^ '^ ''^ '^ '^ >4V y^. y>^-j^ypK 

August Fourteenth 

In vain I send my soul into the dark, where 
never burn 
The lamps of science, nor the natural light 
Of Reason's sun and stars ! I cannot learn 
Their great and solemn meanings, nor discern 
The awful secrets of the eyes which turn 
Evermore on us through the day and night 
With silent challenge and a dumb demand. 

Trust, 



August Fifteenth 

Search thine own heart. What paineth thee 

In others in thyself may be ; 

All dust is frail, all flesh is weak; 

Be thou the true man thou dost seek ! 

The Chapel of the Hermits, 



August Sixteenth 

YeUow and red were the apples, 
And the ripe pears russet-brown, 

And the peaches had stolen blushes 
From the girls who shook them down. 
Cobbler Keezar's Vision, 

[81] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

August Seventeenth 

The heart has needs beyond the head, 

And, starving in the plentitude 

Of strange gifts, craves its common food, — 
Our human nature's daily bread. 

To J. T. F. 



August Eighteenth 

"Why should folk be glum," said Keezar, 
"When Nature herself is glad, 

And the painted woods are laughing 
At the faces so sour and sad?" 

Cobbler Keezar's Vision, 



August Nineteenth 

Ask why the graceful grape entwines 
The rough oak with her arm of vines ; 
And why the gray rock's rugged cheek 
The soft lips of the mosses seek: 

Why, with wise instinct, Nature seems 
To harmonize her wide extremes, 
Linking the stronger with the weak. 
The haughty with the soft and meek ! 

The Bridal of Pennacook, 

[82] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

>^x j^ xjx yfK y^K y^'^y^y^ v^ y^y^\ Vjv 'm^ yi^ y^ '/(k y^ 

August Taventieth 

Secure on God's all-tender heart 
Alike rest great and small ; 

Why fear to lose our little part 
When he is pledged for all? 

The Old Burying- ground, 

August Twenty-first 

Praise to the place-man who can hold aloof 
His still unpurchased manhood, office-proof ; 
Who on his round of duty walks erect 
And leaves it only rich in self-respect. 

The Panorama, 

August Twenty-second 

God works in all things; all obey 
His first propulsion from the night. 

Ho ! Wake and watch ! The world is gray 
With morning light! 

The Reformer, 

August Twenty-third 

I do believe, and yet, in grief 
I pray for help to unbelief ; 
For needful strength aside to lay 
The daily cumberings of my way. 

The Chapel of the Hermits, 

[83] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

August Twenty-fourth 

Oh, Mother Earth ! upon thy lap 

Thy weary ones receiving, 
And o'er them, silent as a dream, 

Thy grassy mantle weaving. 
Fold softly in thy long embrace 

That heart so worn and broken, 
And cool its pulse of fire beneath 

Thy shadows old and oaken. 

Randolph of Roanoke, 

August Twenty-fifth 

His faith and works, like streams that inter- 
mingle. 
In the same channel ran : 
The crystal clearness of an eye kept single 
Shamed all the frauds of man. 

To Joseph Sturge. 

August Twenty-sixth 

Serene and mild the untried light 

May have its dawning; 
And, as in the Summer's northern light 
The evening and the dawn unite, 

The sunset hues of Time blend with the soul's 
new morning. 

Hampton Beach, 

[84] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

August Twenty-seventh 

O Thou who bidst the torrent flow. 

Who lendest wings unto the wind — ' 
Mover of all things ! Where art Thou 3 

Oh, whither shall I go to find 
The secret of Thy resting place ?j 

Is there no holy wing for me. 
That, soaring, I may search the space 

Of highest Heaven for Thee? 

Hymn from Lamartine. 

August Twenty-eighth 

Take heart ! — the Waster builds again, — 
A charmed life old Goodness hath ; 

The tares may perish, — ^but the grain 
Is not for death. 

The Reformer, 

August Twenty-ninth 

She sings at her wheel, at that low cottage door. 
Which the long evening shadow is stretching 

before. 
With a music as sweet as the music which seems 
Breathed softly and faint in the ear of our 

dreams. 

The Ycmkee Girl, 

[85] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

August Thirtieth 

All which is real now remaineth, 

And f adeth never : 
The hand which upholds it now sustaineth 

The soul forever. 

My Soul and I. 



August Thirty-first 

Seldom upon lips of mine, 
Father ! rests that name of thine, — 

Deep within my inmost breast, 
In the secret place of mind, 
Like an awful presence shrined, 

Doth the dread idea rest ! 
Hushed and holy dwells it there — 
Prompter of the silent prayer. 
Lifting up my spirit's eye 
And its faint, but earnest cry. 
From its dark and cold abode, 
Unto thee, my Guide and God! 

Hymns, 



[86] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

: vjy y|v y^y y^y y^ y^ >|< >?< 5^ >^ >^ 



SEPTEMBER 



September First 

Here, rich with autumn gifts of countless years, 

The virgin soil 
Turned from the share he guided, and in rain 
And summer sunshine throve the fruits and 
grain 
Which blessed his honest toil. 

Chalkley Hall, 

September Second 

Our witches are no longer old 
And wrinkled beldames, Satan-scold, 
But young and gay and laughing creatures. 
With the heart's sunshine on their features. 
New England Legend. 

September Third 

We shut our eyes, the flowers bloom on ; 

We murmur, but the corn-ears fiU ; 
We choose the shadow, but the sun 

(That casts it shines behind us still. 
The Autumn Festival. 



[87] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

September Fourth 

O, why and whither? — God knows all. 

I only know that he is good, 
And that whatever may befall 

Or here or there, must be the best that could. 
Th€ Shadow and the Light, 

September Fifth 

O Painter of the fruits and flowers ! 

We thank thee for thy wise design 
Whereby these human hands of ours 

In Nature's garden work with thine. 

And thanks that from our daily need 
The joy of simple faith is born : 

.That he who smites the summer weed, 
May trust thee for the autumn corn. 
To the Agricultural Exhibition. 

September Sixth 

When the Christian sings his death-song all the 
listening heavens draw near. 

And the angels, leaning over the walls of crys- 
tal, hear 

How the notes so faint and broken swell to 
music in God's ear. 

The Swan Song of Parson Avery, 

[88] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

September Seventh 

Laughed the brook for my delight 
Through the day and through the night, 
Whispering at the garden wall, 
Talked with me from fall to fall; 
Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, 
Mine the walnut slopes beyond. 
Mine, on bending orchard trees, 
Apples of Hesperides ! 

The Barefoot Boy, 

September Eighth 

The world sits at the feet of Christ, 
Unknowing, blind and unconsoled ; 
It yet shall touch his garment's fold, 

And feel the heavenly Alchemist 
Transform its very dust to gold. 

The Over-Heart. 

September Ninth 

Through this dark and stormy night 
Faith beholds a feeble light 

Up the blackness streaking ; 
Knowing God's own time is best, 
In a patient hope I rest 

For the full day-breaking ! 

Barclay of Ury, 

[89] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

September Tenth 

Beauty hath its homage still, 

And nature holds us still in debt ; 

And woman's grace and household skill, 
And manhood's toil, are honored yet. 
Autumn Festival, 

September Eleventh 

He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees 
where their pleasant green came forth, 

And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, 
have shaken them down to earth. 

The Frost Spirit. 

September Twelfth 

Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth 

Sends up its smoky curls. 
Who will not thank the kindly earth, 

And bless our farmer girls ! 

The Corn Song, 

September Thirteenth 

And if we reap as we have sown, 
And take the dole we deal. 

The law of pain is love alone. 
The wounding is to heal. 

The Old Burying- grovmd, 

[90] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^y^y^y^ Vjv v^v y^x x^x x|x 7?^ x^ x^ y^ y^ y^ y^ yf^y^ 

September Fourteenth 

What doth that holy Guide require? 
No rite of pain, nor gift of blood, 
But man a kindly brotherhood, 

Looking, where duty is desired. 
To him, the beautiful and good. 

The Over-Heart, 

September Fifteenth 

Yes, all is lovely — earth and air — 
As aught beneath the sky may be ; 

And yet my thoughts are wandering where 

My native rocks lie bleak and bare — 
A weary way beyond the sea. 

The yearning spirit is not here ; 

It hngers on a spot more dear 

Than India's brightest bowers to me. 

Afi Evening in Burmah, 

September Sixteenth 

Wake, sleeper, from thy dream of ease, 
The great occasion's forelock seize; 

And let the north-wind strong, 
And golden leaves of autumn, be 
Thy coronal of Victory 

And thy triumphal song. 

Fennsylvania, 

[91] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

September Seventeenth 

O for that hidden strength which can 
Nerve unto death the inner man! 
O for thy spirit, tried and true, 

And constant in the hour of trial, 
Prepare to suffer, or to do. 

In meekness and in self-denial. 
To the Memory of Thomas Shipley. 

September Eighteenth 

Ah me ! we doubt the shining skies, 
Seen through our shadows of offense, 

And drown with our poor childish cries 
The cradle-hymn of kindly Providence. 
The Shadow and the Light, 

September Nineteenth 

From the death of the old the new proceeds, 
And the Hf e of truth from the rot of creeds : 
On the ladder of God, which upward leads, 
The steps of progress are human needs. 
For his judgments still are a mighty deep. 
And the eyes of his providence never sleep ; 
When the night is darkest he gives the morn, 
When the famine is sorest, the wine and corn ! 

The Preacher. 

[92] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

September Twentieth 

With such a prayer, on this sweet day, 
As thou mayst hear and I may say, 
I greet thee, dearest, far away ! 

Benedicite, 

September Twenty-first 

To-day be every fault forgiven 

Of him in whom we joy! 
We take, with thanks, the gold of Heaven 

And leave the earth's alloy. 
Be ours his music as of spring. 

His sweetness as of flowers. 
The songs the bard himself might sing 

In holier ears than ours. 

Birthday of Burns, 

September Twenty-second 

Oh, would I were as free to rise 

As leaves on Autumn's whirlwind borne — 
The arrowy light of sunset skies. 

Or sound, or ray, or star of morn 
Which melts in heaven at twilight's close, 

Or aught which soars unchecked and free 
Through Earth and Heaven ; that I might lose 

Myself in finding Thee ! 

Hymns, 

■ [93] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

>^>^'j^'/^>^ypi.y^ji^ypK y^i^x y^x x|y y^ x^x x^ y^y^ 

September Twenty-third 

Few leaves of Fancy's spring remain, 

But what I have I give to thee — 
The o'er-sunned bloom of summer's plain, 
And paler flowers, the latter rain 

Calls from the westering slope of life's autum- 
nal lea. 

Dedication. 



September Twenty-fourth 

"Henceforth my heart shall sigh no more 
For old time and holier shore; 
God's love and blessing then and there, 
Are now and here and everywhere." 

The Chapel of the Hermits, 

September Twenty-fifth 

Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, 

For rich repiner and household drudge! 

God pity them both ! and pity us all 
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall, 

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
The saddest are these : "It might have been." 

Maud Muller. 



[94] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

yjfK^^y^'/l^^ y^y y^y^y^y y|v /|x /jy '/^^^ >|y y^ y^ T?«::?|r^s|^ 

September Twenty-sixth 

Dear heart ! — the legend is not vain 
Which hghts that holy hearth again, 
And calling back from care and pain, 

And death's funereal sadness, 
Draws round its old familiar blaze 
The clustering groups of happier days, 
And lends to sober manhood's gaze 

A glimpse of childish gladness. 

To My Sister. 

September Twenty-seventh 

And, soon or late, to all that sow. 
The time of harvest shall be given ; 

The flower shall bloom, the fruit shall grow, 
If not on earth, at last in heaven ! 

Lines, 

September Twenty-eighth 

Alas ! — the evil which we fain would shun 
We do, and leave the wished- for good undone : 

Our strength to-day 
Is but to-morrow's weakness, prone to fall ; 
Poor, bhnd, unprofitable servants all 

Are we alway. 

The Reward. 

[95] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

>?«c y|< >l^ >l«c v?v >;»c v|< >|< >?< >l< y^ y^y y^ y^ y^y >?^ >l<>l< 

September Twenty-ninth 

In the long strife with evil, which began 
With the first lapse of new-created man, 
Wisely and well has Providence assigned 
To each his part — some forward, some behind. 

The Panorama. 



September Thirtieth 

O for the death the righteous die ! 

An end, like autumn's day declining. 
On human hearts, as on the sky, 

With holier, tenderer beauty shining ; 
As to the parting soul were given 
The radiance of an opening Heaven ! 
As if that pure and blessed light 

From off the Eternal alter flowing. 
Were bathing in its upward flight 

The spirit to its worship going ! 

To the Memory of Thomas Shipley, 



19Q^ 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 



OCTOBER 



October First 

Knowing this, that never yet 
Share of Truth was vainly set 

In the world's wide fallow ; 
After hands shall sow the seed, 
After hands from hill and mead 

Reap the harvests yellow. 

Barclay of Ury. 



October Second 

Slow passed that vision from my view, 
But not the lesson which it taught ; 

The soft, calm shadows which it threw 
Still rested on my thought : 

The truth, that painter, bard and sage, 
Even in earth's cold and changeful clime, 

Plant for their deathless heritage 
The fruits and flowers of time. 

Raphael, 

[97] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

October Third 

For me the Ocean lifts its solemn psalm^ 
To me the pine woods whisper ; and for me 
Yon river, winding through its vales of calm, 
By greenest banks, with asters purple-starred 
And gentian bloom and golden-rod made gay, 
Flows down in silent gladness to the sea. 
Like a pure spirit to its great reward! 

The Prisoners of Naples, 

October Fourth 

And were this life the utmost span, 
The only end and aim of man, 
Better the toil of fields like these 
Than waking dream and slothful ease. 

Seed Time and Harvest, 

October Fifth 

Oh! watchers of the stars at night. 

Who breathe their fire, as we the air — 
Suns, thunders, stars, and rays of light. 

Oh! say, is He — the Eternal, there? 
Bend there around His awful throne 

The seraph's glance, the angel's knee? 
Or are thy inmost depths His own, 

O wild and mighty sea? 

[98] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

yifi. xifK^:^ yi(K y^ yfK xjx y^ y^v x|< x^x x^x x|x /^ y^ '/^ y^ y^ 

October Sixth 

Sweet day, sweet songs ! — The golden hours 
Grew brighter for that singing 

From brook and bird and meadow flowers 
A dearer welcome bringing. 

Burns, 

October Seventh 

And most avails the prayer of love, 

Which, wordless, shapes itself in deeds, 

And wearies Heaven for naught above 
Our common needs. 

The Hermit of Thebaid. 

October Eighth 

But hf e, though falling like our grain, 
Like that revives and springs again ; 
And, early called, how blest are they 
Who wait in Heaven their harvest-day. 
Seed Time and Harvest, 

October Ninth 

The truths ye urge are borne abroad 
By every wind and every tide; 

The voice of Nature and of God 
Speaks out upon your side. 

To the Reformers of England. 

[ 99 1 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

October Tenth 

The meal unshared is food unblest; 

Thou hoard'st in vain what love should spend ; 
Self -ease is pain ; thy only rest 

Is labor for a worthy end. 

The Voices, 

OcTOBEE Eleventh 

O spirit of that early day, 
So pure and strong and true, 

Be with us in the narrow way 
Our faithful fathers knew. 

The Quaker of the Olden Time, 

Octobee Twelfth 



O faithful worthies ! resting far behind 
In your dark ages, since ye fell asleep, 
Much has been done for truth and human 

kind, — 
Shadows are scattered wherein ye groped blind ; 
Man claims his birthright, freer pulses leap 
Through peoples driven in your day Hke sheep ; 
Yet, like your own, our age's sphere of Hght, 
Though widening still, is waUed around by 

night 

The Men of Old, 

[1001 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

October Thirteenth 

Why mourn the quiet ones who die 
Beneath affection's tender eye, 
Unto their household and their kin 
Like ripened corn-sheaves gathered in? 
O weeper, from that tranquil sod. 
That holy harvest-home of God, 
Turn to the quick and suffering — shed 
Thy tears upon the living dead ! 

Derne, 

October Fourteenth 

Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard ! 

Heap high the golden corn ! 
No richer gift has Autumn poured 

From out her lavish horn! 

The Corn Song, 

October Fifteenth 

The great eventful Present hides the Past, but 
through the din 

Of its loud life hints and echoes from the life 
behind steal in ; 

And the lore of home and fireside, and the legen- 
dary rhyme, 

Make the task of duty lighter which the true 
man owes his time. 

The Garrison of Cape Ann, 

[ 101 1 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHlTTIER 

y^ y^ 5^' >|< y^'M^ ypay^ y^ v^>i«:>i< y^ >^' >|v yfKy^yfs: 

October Sixteenth 

Yet do thy work, it shall succeed 
In thine or in another's day ; 

And, if denied the victor's meed. 
Thou shalt not lack the toiler's pay. 

The Voices. 

October Seventeenth 

From cottage door and household hearth 
Rose songs of praise, or tones of mirth. 

Pentucket, 

October Eighteenth 

Like warp and woof, all destinies 

Are woven fast. 
Linked in sympathy like the keys 

Of an organ vast. 

My Soul and I. 

October Nineteenth 

The warm light of our morning skies, — 
The Indian Summer of the heart ! — 

In secret sympathies of mind, 

In founts of feeling which retain 

Their pure, fresh flow, we yet may find 
Our early dreams not wholly vain ! 

Memories, 



FROM DAY TO BAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^y^Mi\ M^x xix xjfX xvx y^ y^y^K yjv >|v:7?^ >|v >jv y^ - /^y^ 

October Twentieth 

O for the faith to read the signs aright 
And, from the angle of thy perfect sight, 
See Truth's white banner floating on before ; 
And the Good Cause, despite of venal friends, 
And base expedients, move to noble ends. 

What of the Day. 

October Twenty-first 

And I will trust that He who heeds 
The life that hides in mead and wold. 

Who hangs yon alder's crimson beads, 
And stains these mosses green and gold. 

Will still, as He hath done, incline 

His gracious care to me and mine ; 

Grant what we ask aright, from wrong debar, 

And as the earth grows dark, make brighter 
every star ! 

The Last Walk in Autumn, 

October Twenty-second 

O fearful heart and troubled brain ! 

Take hope and strength from this, — 
That Nature never hints in vain, 

Nor prophesies amiss. 

The Old Bur ymg- ground, 

[ 103 ] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

'j^ y^ y^ j^ y^ y^ 'j^ y^ viv v^v y^ y^w^y^y^ y^K y^ y^ 

October Twenty-third 

Once more the liberal year laughs out 
O'er richer stores than gems or gold ; 

Once more with harvest-song and shout 
Is Nature's bloodless triumph told. 

For An Autumn Festival, 



October Twenty-fourth 

The wave is breaking on the shore, — 
The echo fading from the chime, — 

Again the shadow moveth o'er 
The dial-plate of time ! 

The New Year, 



October Twenty-fifth 

And shall the sinful heart, alone, 

Behold unmoved the atoning hour. 
When Nature trembles on her throne, 

And Death resigns his iron power ? 
O, shall the heart, — ^whose sinfulness 
Gave keenness to his sore distress , 
And added to his tears of blood, — 
Refuse its trembling gratitude ! 

The Crucifixion, 



i 104 ] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

October Twenty-sixth 

To see our Father's hand once more 
Reverse for us the plenteous horn 

Of autumn, filled and running o'er 

With fruit, and flower, and golden corn ! 
For an Autumn Festival. 

October Twenty-seventh 

Through Thy vast creative plan 
Looking, from the worm to man. 
There is pity in Thine eyes. 
But no hatred nor surprise. 

Andrew RyJcman^s Prayer, 

October Twenty-eighth 

God's love and peace be with thee, where 
Soe'er this soft autumnal air 
Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair ! 

Benedicite, 

October Twenty-ninth 

For still the Lord alone is God ! 

The pomp and power of tyrant man 
Are scattered at his lightest breath. 

Like chaff before the winnower's fan. 
The Legend of St. Mark, 

[ 105 ] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

October Thirtieth 

It was late in mild October, and the long autum- 
nal rain 

Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with 
grass again ; 

The first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the 
woodlands gay 

With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the 
meadow flowers of May. 

The Huskers. 



October Thirty-first 

God alone 
Beholds the end of what is sown ; 
Beyond our vision, weak and dim, 
The harvest-time is hid with him. 

The Cross. 



[106] 






FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 



NOVEMBER 



November First 

Autumn's early frost had given 

To the woods below 
Hues of beauty, such as heaven 

Lendeth to its bow ; 
And the soft breeze from the west 
Scarcely broke their dreamy rest. 

The Fountain, 



November Second 

We thank Thee, Father ! hill and plain 
Around us wave their fruits once more, 

And clustered vine, and blossomed grain, 
Are bending round each cottage door. 

And peace is here ; and hope and love 
Are round us as a mantle thrown, 

And unto Thee, supreme above. 

The knee of prayer is bowed alone. 

Lin^es, 

[107] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^K x|K x^ y^^yfK y^ y^ y^ yj^xjx y^x x|x y^y^y^y^ y^y^ 

November Third 

I said to Earth, so cold and gray, 
"An emblem of myself thou art" ; 

"Not so," the Earth did seem to say, 

"For spring shall warm my frozen heart." 
Autumn Thoughts. 

November Fourth 

Ah, the cloud is dark, and day by day 

I am moving thither : 
I must pass beneath it on my way — 

God pity me ! — Whither ? 

My Soul and I, 

November Fifth 

I walk, with noiseless feet, the round 

Of uneventful years ; 
Still o'er and o'er I sow the spring 

And reap the autumn ears. 

My Playmate. 

November Sixth 

Yet shall the blue-eyed gentian look 
Through fringed lids to heaven, 

And the pale aster in the brook 
Shall see its image given. 

My Psalm, 

[108] 



:from day to day with whittier 

November Seventh 

Lord, what is man, whose thought, at times, 
Up to thy sevenfold brightness chmbs. 
While still his grosser instinct clings 
To earth, like other creeping things ! 

The Chapel of the Hermits. 

November Eighth 

He comes, — ^lie comes, — ^the Frost Spirit comes ! 

let us meet him as we may. 
And turn with the light of the parlor-fire his evil 

power away ; 
And gather closer the circle round, when that 

fire-light dances high. 
And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend as 

his sounding wing goes by ! 

The Frost Spirit. 

November Ninth 

Sing, O my soul, rejoicingly, on evening's twi- 
light calm 

Uplift the loud thanksgiving, — ^pour forth the 
grateful psalm; 

Let all dear hearts with me rejoice, as did the 
saints of old. 

When of the Lord's good angel the rescued 
Peter told. 

Cassandra Southwick. 

[109] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^ y^ yi^ y^ y^ vfK y^ -j^ 'j^ y^i^^ vjv v^v vi< >;< y^y^^y^ 

November Tenth 

Even Duty's voice is faint and low, 

And slumberous Conscience, waking slow, 

Forgets her blotted scroll to show. 

Summer hy the Lakeside, 

November Eleventh 

By all for which the martyrs bore their agony 

and shame : 
By all the warning words of truth with which 

the prophets came; 
By the future which awaits us ; by all the hopes 

which cast 
Their faint and trembling beams across the 

blackness of the Past ; 
And by the blessed thought of Him who for 

Earth's freedom died, 
my people ! O my brothers ! let us choose the 

righteous side. 

The Crisis, 

November Twelfth 

The west winds blow, and, singing low, 
I hear the glad streams nm; 

The windows of my soul I throw 
Wide open to the sun. 

My Psalm, 

[110] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^ y^ y^ wi^x j^ y^ y^ j^ '^ y^ j^{\ y^v vjv v|y y^y^y^y^ 

November Thirteenth 

But human hearts remain unchanged: the sor- 
row and the sin, 

The loves and hopes and fears of old, are to 
our own akin. 

Mary Garvin, 

November Fourteenth 

God still overrules man's schemes, and takes 
Craftiness in its self -set snare, and makes 
The wrath of man to praise Him. 

To the Memory of Thomas Shipley, 

November Fifteenth 

Not in vain on the dial 

The shade moves along, 
To point the great contrasts 

Of right and of wrong. 

Le Marais du Cygne, 

November Sixteenth 

And let these altars, wreathed with flowers 
And piled with fruits, awake again 

Thanksgiving for the golden hours, 
The early and the latter rain ! 

For an Autumn Festival. 

[Ill] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

November Seventeenth 

Not in clouds and in terrors, but gentle as when, 
In love and in meekness. He moved among men ; 
And the voice which breathed peace to the waves 

of the sea 
In the hush of my spirit would whisper to me. 

Palestine, 



November Eighteenth 

O, for God and duty stand, 
Heart to heart and hand to hand. 
Round the old graves of the land. 

Teivas, 



November Nineteenth 

The eyes of memory will not sleep, — 

Its ears are open still ; 
And vigils with the past they keep 

Against my feeble will. 

And still the loves and joys of old 

Do evermore uprise ; 
I see the flow of locks of Gold, 

The shine of loving eyes. 

The Knight of St, John. 

[112] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

^ix x|x y|x -/^^^y^y^M^^ yjx >|V y^y v^• 7?OF-^7iFT?>r^ 

November Twentieth 

Grant what we ask aright, from wrong debar, 
And, as the earth grows dark, make brighter 
every star ! 

The Last Walk in Autumn, 



November Twenty-first 

Now let the merriest tales be told, 
And let the sweetest songs be sung 
That ever made the old heart young ! 

The Witch's Daughter, 



November Twenty-second 

In thee, let j oy with duty j oin, 
And strength unite with love. 

The eagle's pinions folding round 
The warm heart of the dove ! 

So, when in darkness sleeps the vale 
Where still the blind bird clings, 

The sunshine of the upper sky 
Shall glitter on thy wings ! 

An Eagle's Quill, 

[113] 



FROM BAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^yfiy^'Mpi. v^v V|V >^ y^x 7|^7|?"?|»r y^y^y^ x|x >^x x^x xj-K 

November Twenty-third 

A marvel seems the Universe, 
A miracle our Life and Death; 

A mystery which I cannot pierce, 
Around, above, beneath. 

The Wish of To-day. 

November Twenty-fourth 

Well I know that all things move 
To the spheral rhythm of love. 

Andrew RyJcman's Prayer, 

November Twenty-fifth 

No longer forward nor behind 

I look in hope or fear ; 
But, grateful, take the good I find, 

The best of now and here. 

My Psalm, 

November Twenty-sixth 

Gone hath the Spring, with all its flowers. 
And gone the Summer's pomp and show, 

And Autumn, in his leafless bowers. 
Is waiting for the Winter's snow. 

Autumn Thoughts, 

[114] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIEH 

y^ 'j^ j^ y^ y^ y^ yfK y^x y^x x^ y^v y|x a|x x|y >|x x^x x^ /|x 

November Twenty-seventh 

O Holy Father! — ^just and true 

Are all thy works and words and ways, 
And unto thee alone are due 

Thanksgiving and eternal praise ! 
As children of thy gracious care 

We veil the eye, we bend the knee, 
With broken words of praise and prayer, 

Father and God, we come to thee. 

Lines, 

November Twenty-eighth 

Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness 

His own thy will. 
And with strength from Him shall thy utter 
weakness 
Life's task fulfill. 

My Soul and I. 

November Twenty-ninth 

To Him be the glory forever ! — ^We bear 

To the Lord of the Harvest our wheat with the 

tare. 
What we lack in our work may he find in our 

will, 
And winnow in mercy our good from the ill ! 

The Quaker Alumni, 

[115] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

November Thirtieth 

O heart of mine, keep patience ! — ^Looking forth, 
As from the Mount of Vision, I behold. 

Pure, just, and free, the Church of Christ on 
earth, — 
The martyr's dream, the golden age foretold ! 

And found, at last, the mystic Graal I see, 
Brimmed with his blessing, pass from lip to lip 
In sacred pledge of human fellowship ; 
And over all the songs of angels hear, — 
Songs of the love that casteth out all fear, — 

Songs of the Gospel of Humanity ! 

On a Prayer Book, 



[116] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 



DECEMBER 



December First 

How well the conscious wood retains 

The pictures of its flower-sown home, — 

The lights and shades, the purple stains. 
And golden hues of bloom ! 

It was a happy thought to bring 

To the dark season's frost and rime 

This painted memory of spring, 
This dream of summer-time. 

Flowers in Winter. 



December Second 

In this night of death I challenge the promise of 

Thy word ! — 
Let me see the great salvation of which mine ears 

have heard ! — 
Let me pass from hence forgiven, through the 

grace of Christ, our Lord ! 

The Swan Song, 

[117] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

December Third 

The cloud went off from the pilgrim's brow, as a 

small and meager book, 
Unchased with gold or gem of cost, from his 

folding robe he took ! 
"Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price, may it 

prove as such to thee ! 
Nay — keep thy gold — I ask it not, for the word 

of God is free !" 

The Vaudois Teacher. 

December Fourth 

For Nature speaks in symbols and in signs, 
And through her pictures human fate divines. 

To C. S. 

December Fifth 

The Crisis presses on us ; face to face with us it 

stands. 
With solemn lips of question, like the Sphinx in 

Egypt's sands ! 
This day we f asliion destiny, our web of Fate we 

spin ; 
This day for all hereafter choose we holiness or 

sin. 

The Crisis. 

[118] , 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^y^y^y^y^yp^ypK'/^y^y^ y|y Hv ypi. y^ >?< >^ y^ y^ 

December Sixth 

In the white soul that stooped to raise 
The lost one from her evil ways. 
Thou saw'st the Christ, whom angels praise ! 

Trmitas, 

December Seventh 

Falsehoods which we spurn to-day 
Were the truths of long ago ; 

Let the dead boughs fall away, 
Fresher shall the living grow. 

Calef in Boston, 

December Eighth 

The suns of eighteen centuries have shone 
Since the Redeemer walked with man, and 
made 
The fisher's boat, the cavern's floor of stone, 
And mountain moss, a pillow for his head. 

Lines. 

December Ninth 

But warmer suns erelong shall bring 

To life the frozen sod ; 
And, through dead leaves of hope, shall spring 

Afresh the flowers of God ! 

The Maifflowers, 

[119] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

December Tenth 

Rocked on her breast, these pines and I 
Alike on Nature's love rely ; 
And equal seems to live or die. 

Summer hy the Lakeside. 

December Eleventh 

The day is breaking in the East of which the 

prophets told, 
And brightens up the sky of Time the Christian 

age of Gold; 
Old Might to Right is yielding, battle blade to 

clerkly pen. 
Earth's monarchs are her people, and her serfs 

stand up as men. 

The Crisis, 

December Twelfth 

Chase back the shadows, gray and old 
Of the dead ages, from his way. 

And let his hopeful eyes behold 
The dawn of Thy millenial day ; — 

That day when fettered limb and mind 
Shall know the truth which maketh free, 

And he alone who loves his kind 

Shall, childlike, claim the love of Thee ! 
Lines to a Clerical Friend, 

[120] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

x|x xfK y^x -/^ y^y^ >|v y^v V|y y^ y^ y^y^s^ff^y^y^y^y^ 

December Thirteenth 

Wherefore this dream of the earthly abode 
Of Humanity clothed in the brightness of God? 
Were my spirit but turned from the outward 

and dim, 
It could gaze, even now, on the presence of Him ! 

Palestine, 



December Fourteenth 

Shall we grow weary in our watch, 
And murmur at the long delay? 

Impatient of our Father's time 
And his appointed way? 

The Cypress Tree of Ceylon, 



December Fifteenth 

We are older : our footsteps, so light in the play 

Of the far-away school time, move slower to- 
day;— 

Here a beard touched with frost, there a bald, 
shining crown, 

And beneath the cap's border gray mingles with 
brown. 

The Quaker Alumni, 

[ 121 1 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^y^yi^y^K v^ Vjv y^v y^v >|x >|v >^ >^x ^jx vjy vjv >|< >^ v^ 

December Sixteenth 

Oh! speed the moment on 

When Wrong shall cease — and Liberty, and 
Love, 
And Truth, and Right, throughout the earth be 
known 
As in their home above. 

Clerical Oppressors, 



Decembee Seventeenth 

O weary ones ! ^^e may not see 

Your helpers in their downward flight ; 
Nor hear the sound of silver wings 

Slow beating through the hush of night ! 
The Legend of St. Mark, 



December Eighteenth 

Yet who, thus looking' backward o'er his years, 
Feels not his eyelids wet with grateful tears, 

If he hath been 
Permitted, weak and sinful as he was, 
To cheer and aid, in some ennobhng cause, 

His fellow-men? 

The Reward, 

[ 1^^ ] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^Ky^y^y^ '/^ y^ y^ >!< yj^ y^ >^x y^x x^x y^ y^x y^x x^x >jx 

December Nineteenth 

The heart must bleed before it feels, 
The pool be troubled before it heals ; 
Ever by losses the right must gain, 
Every good have its birth of pain ; 
The active Virtues blush to find 
The Vices wearing their badge behind. 
And Graces and Charities feel the fire 
Wherein the sins of the age expire ; 
The fiend still rends as of old he rent 
The tortured body from which he went. 

The Preacher, 



December Twentieth 

We turn us from the light, and find 
Our spectral shapes before us thrown, 

As they who leave the sun behind 

Walk in the shadows of themselves alone. 
The Shadow and the Light. 



December Twenty-first 

"He lived the Truth which reconciled 
The strong man Reason, Faith the child; 
In him belief arid act were one, 
The homilies of duty done !" 

The Chapel of the Hermits. 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

y^ y^ j^y^ yi(K -xi^\ x^ x^ yj^yfK x^ y^ y^v ypi. y^y^y^y^ 

December Twenty-second 

Follow with reverent steps the great example 
Of Him whose holy work was "doing good" ; 

So shall the wide earth seem our Father's temple, 
Each loving life a psalm of gratitude. 

Worship, 



December Twenty-third 

Alone in that great love which gave 
Life to the sleeper of the grave, 
Resteth the power to "see and save." 

Lines. 



December Twenty-fourth 

We dwell with fears on either hand, 

Within a daily strife, 
And spectral problems waiting stand 

Before the gates of life. 

The doubts we vainly seek to solve. 
The truths we know, are one ; 

The known and nameless stars revolve 
Around the Central Sun. 

The Old Burying' ground, 

[ 124 ] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

December Twenty-fifth 

And He, who wandered with the peasant Jew, 
And broke with publicans the bread of shame, 
And drank, with blessings in His father's 
name. 
The water which Samaria's outcast drew, 
Hath now His temples upon every shore, 

Altar and shrine and priest, — and incense dim 

Evermore rising, with low prayer and hymn. 

From lips which press the temple's marble floor, 

Or kiss the gilded sign of the dread Cross He 

bore ! 

Lines, 

December Twenty-sixth 

That Shadow blends with mountain gray. 
It speaks, but what the light waves say, — 
Death walks apart from Fear to-day ! 

Summer hy the Lakeside, 

December Twenty-seventh 

Angel of Freedom ! soon to thee 

The sounding trumpet shall be given, 

And over Earth's full jubilee 

Shall deeper joy be felt in Heaven! 

The Pastoral Letter,! 

[ 125 ] 



PROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

December Twenty-eighth 

O spirit of that early day, 
So pure and strong and true, 

Be with us in the narrow way 
Our faithful fathers knew. 

Give strength the evil to forsake, 

The cross of Truth to bear, 
And love and reverent fear to make 

Our daily lives a prayer! 

The Quaker of the Olden Time, 

December Twenty-ninth 

And wilt thou prize my poor gift less 
For simple air and rustic dress. 
And sign of haste and carelessness? — 

Lines, 

December Thirtieth 

Oh, here with His flock the sad Wanderer 

came — 
These hills He toiled over in grief, are the 

same — 
The founts where He drank by the wayside still 

flow. 
And the same airs are blowing which breathed 
" on His brow ! 

Palestine, 

[ 126 ] 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH WHITTIER 

December Thirty-first :i 

So, in those winters of the soul, 

By bitter blasts and drear 
O'erswept from Memory's frozen pole, 

Will sunny days appear. 
Reviving Hope and Faith, they show 

The soul its living powers, 
And how beneath the winter's snow 

Lie germs of summer flowers! 

The Night is mother of the Day, 

The Winter of the Spring, 
And ever upon old Decay 

The greenest mosses chng. 
Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, 

Through showers the sunbeams fall; 
For God, who loveth all his works, 

Has left his Hope with all ! 

A Dream of Summero 



[127] 



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